First Kiss
by Starzangel
Summary: Merlin/Arthur. Starting a physical relationship isn't straightforward for Arthur and Merlin as one of them has a tendency to be an insecure prat, bless his royal cotton socks.


Disclaimer: _Merlin_ doesn't belong to me.

Spoilers: Set shortly after series 2.

A/N: This was written as a LiveJournal merlin_santa gift for Mudav.

**FIRST KISS**

Arthur's lips brushed his, sudden and soft. Merlin felt a rush of pleasure and responded instinctively, his mouth capturing Arthur's to affirm the kiss. Together they became surer, deeper. Merlin was distantly aware of fingers on his bare neck, his own hands grabbing lightly at the shoulders of Arthur's tunic. His head spun, reason lost in the entanglement of their tongues, in the taste of Arthur, in the heat and wetness and softness. Arthur. It was overwhelming, it was amazing, it was...right.

Arthur broke away first, breathless and hand trembling as it slid from Merlin's neck. Merlin stared into the prince's eyes, his own body shaking too. There was a smile tugging at Arthur's flushed lips, but then the desire slipped from his eyes and fear glistened in its place, as his brain jumped ahead of his heart. Merlin felt a flutter of fear deep within his chest, as his own light-headedness lifted. Arthur took half a step backwards, and white-hot panic slid down to Merlin's stomach. No. Please.

Arthur's jaw quivered, teeth almost chattering. He slowly reached out a hand and grasped Merlin's wrist. The hold was strong, thumb lightly rubbing against his skin. Tender. Scared, but wanting. Merlin covered Arthur's hand with his own and squeezed gently. Their eyes met again.

A twig snapped, sharply reminding them that they weren't alone in the forest. They sprang apart.

A few moments later the rest of the hunting party appeared between the trees, a number of rabbits hanging from their fingers. Sir Berwyn, at the head of the group, stopped at a respectful distance from the prince.

"My Lord, were you successful in tracking the hart?" the knight inquired, politely.

"No."

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, surprised to find him scowling.

"Thanks to this clumsy idiot!" Arthur closed the distance they'd put between themselves to sharply cuff Merlin up the back of the head.

It stung. Merlin stumbled forward, shocked.

"He's utterly hopeless," Arthur continued. "It's a good job we split up or else you wouldn't have hit anything either, not with _Merlin_ scaring everything away!"

Merlin bit his lip and looked down.

"Truly, I don't know why I bring him along." Arthur, to Merlin's dismay, was in full swing now. "Perhaps tomorrow, I won't. Our hunts would be a lot more fruitful without him."

Arthur started to lead the group back to the castle. "Maybe I should put you to work in the grain fields, Merlin, where your abilities would be put to better use – scaring off the crows."

There was snickering from the hunting party.

Merlin glanced up and caught Arthur's eyes. The prince's smirk faltered, checked by Merlin's hurt expression, and for a moment he looked pained himself.

Then he roughly thrust his crossbow into Merlin's arms. "This needs to be restrung. My armour still needs polishing, my stables mucking out, my chambers sweeping. Oh, and make sure I have some clean, decent clothes for tonight's banquet, will you?"

"Yes, sire." Merlin gritted his teeth.

"You will need to accompany me this afternoon while I inspect the progress of the castle's repairs. Be sure to bring the latest paperwork."

Merlin noted the sun's high position in the sky, and raised his eyebrows. There weren't going to be enough hours in the day.

"I'm starving. Get me something to eat when we get back. And not that horrid soup from last night."

Merlin frowned. "What was wrong with the soup? I thought you liked the soup."

"I didn't, I hated it. You're a terrible cook."

"It came from the kitchens. You normally like Mrs Beat's cooking."

"Well, I didn't like it last night. It was horrid." Arthur was gritting his teeth now, a warning note clear in his voice.

Concern flittered across Merlin's face, as he stopped himself from defying the prince further while within earshot of the rest of the hunting party. Arthur was being unreasonable and Merlin didn't know the cause. He hadn't done anything stupid. Apart from the kiss, but Arthur had been the one to start it, and Merlin didn't like to think of it as stupid anyway. Though, it probably was...

Arthur spent the rest of the journey back to the castle talking to Sir Berwyn, and Merlin trailed after. Once in the main courtyard, the prince dismissed his manservant without a glance.

Within half an hour later, Merlin set Arthur's lunch down on the table in his chambers. Arthur was looking out the open window and didn't turn.

"Your food, sire," Merlin announced.

The prince still refused to acknowledge him. Merlin sighed quietly and left. He had too many chores to complete; goading Arthur into revealing why he was giving him the silent treatment would have to wait. Besides, he had a sinking feeling that he already knew the reason.

It was the middle of the afternoon before Merlin saw Arthur again. There had been no sign of the prince when he had returned to clear away the barely touched food and sweep the floor, but now there he was, sat at the table, his head in his hands. Merlin stopped just inside the door, a little breathless and several scrolls under his arm. He stared at Arthur's bowed head.

There had been no time for Merlin to properly think about the fractiousness Arthur had shown towards him, or rather it had been easy to avoid doing so. He had felt somewhat satisfied with himself for having managed to get his workload completed, just about, and with minimal use of magic, too. But now seeing Arthur wrenched his heart and made him feel hollow.

Merlin wanted nothing more than to tenderly smooth Arthur's tousled blond hair, place a kiss on his pale forehead, pull his hands away from his shining blue eyes, and assure him everything would be alright. But, although this particular situation was unparalleled, Merlin knew Arthur well enough by now to know he wouldn't yield to Merlin's affection. He wanted to say something, whatever it was that would fix this, something that would make everything be ok. Yet, he stood there silently. The right words would not come.

It was Arthur who spoke first.

The prince dropped his hands heavily to the table. "Finally. Well, let's get on with it then." He sounded arrogant and rose smoothly from his chair.

"Sire?" Merlin asked, uncertain.

"The repair work inspection. Seriously, Merlin, are you as dim-witted as you sound? Sometimes I wonder if you were dropped on your head as a child."

Merlin glared, but Arthur was avoiding looking at him.

"Arthur, I-"

The prince impatiently brushed past him to get to the door. "We don't have all day."

Merlin scowled, his sympathy towards Arthur's _presumed_ emotional turmoil taking a backseat. Sometimes the prince was simply infuriating. Merlin wished he didn't lo- ...like him so much.

Arthur set a needlessly quick pace, striding out of the castle and across the sunlit courtyard. Merlin scurried after him, struggling not to drop any of the scrolls under his arm. Finally, Arthur came to a halt next to two carpenters fitting a new door.

The prince briefly complemented the craftsmen on their work. Then he half-turned to Merlin, as he started walking again.

"Is that the last castle door needing to be replaced?"

Merlin hurried to find the correct scroll, some tumbling to the floor, as he attempted to unravel them one by one.

Arthur rapidly became impatient and stopped walking. "You can read, can't you?"

"You know I can." Merlin looked at Arthur in askance.

"Hmm, your mother must've had the patience of a saint teaching you," Arthur mocked. "If there are any big words you don't understand, be sure to let me know."

Merlin scowled, but found the right scroll at last. "There's one more door to be fitted, at the base of the northeast tower."

Arthur said nothing, merely turning on his heel and setting off again.

Silently fuming, Merlin gathered up the many scrolls and followed. His eyes bored into Arthur's back, unintentionally noticing how well his red tunic sat on his strong shoulders. Merlin's hands itched to reach out and feel Arthur's body warmth through the fabric, to slide underneath and touch his skin...

Merlin mentally shook himself. He wanted to be angry with Arthur, he really did, and he was angry with Arthur, he really was. But he could still recall the feel of Arthur's lips crushed against his and how never before had he felt how true Kilgharrah's words were – they were the two halves of one whole.

He sighed. More than wanting to punch the supercilious prince's face, he wanted to kiss him again. And again. And again...

They needed to talk. Yet, Merlin squirmed at the thought; it wouldn't be an easy conversation. How was he supposed to start it? And, more importantly, in what manner would it end...?

Merlin followed Arthur distractedly, deep in thought and mainly inattentive to his surroundings. There was much work needed to repair the severe damage caused by the freed dragon's vengeful attack, and the ramparts that rose up beside them were particularly battered. A substantial team of masons were hard at work, below and on top, stone being carried and chiselled, blocks being lifted up to the parapet on pulleys. Becoming aware of where they'd reached, Merlin began riffling through the scrolls in anticipation of the prince's questioning.

Suddenly there was a sharp cry of warning. Merlin started to raise his head. Something collided with his body and knocked him to the ground.

Deafening sound, stone lethally colliding. Vibration through the ground. Air thick with dust, fragments hitting him.

Then stillness.

Merlin lay motionless, stunned. His ears were ringing, and anxious shouts came from what seemed like far away. The ground was cold and hard beneath him, an uncomfortable weight pinning him to it. He heard a heavy breath close to his ear and the something that was squashing him moved momentarily. Slowly the dust settled and he blinked his eyes clear.

He realised that the something was warm and soft yet firm, in a person kind of way, and smelled pleasingly familiar. A smile drifted over Merlin's lips, despite the circumstances.

Arthur started coughing and rolled off him.

Merlin dragged his limbs into action and sat up, rubbing the sore spots on his shoulder and hip from where they'd hit the ground. He looked over at Arthur and found him staring back.

Arthur's eyes held the after-effects of panic, the unsteadiness of an adrenaline rush. There was relief in his gaze, and lingering concern, and bright shining tenderness, all aimed directly at Merlin. Joy touched Merlin's heart, as he recognised he was seeing the real Arthur again, all guarding pretence gone.

Arthur reached towards Merlin and touched his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked, hoarsely.

Merlin put his hand on Arthur's wrist, encouraging his hand to stay resting so comfortably on his shoulder. "I'm ok."

He looked around and worked out what had happened – huge stones had accidently fallen from the parapet and crashed into the ground at the spot where Merlin had recently been stood, Arthur having bodily knocked him out of the way just in time. Merlin swallowed, unnerved by his narrow escape.

"Thanks to you," he added, grinning gratefully at Arthur.

Arthur managed to smile back, though obviously still shaken up. His eyes wouldn't leave Merlin. He helped Merlin to his feet and guided him away. They walked stiffly, both bruised but not seriously injured. Arthur took them to his chambers, wordlessly, Merlin enjoying the feel of the pressure of Arthur's palm against his back.

Once they were inside, the door closed, they just stood ever so close together. Then Arthur reached out again, his fingers tenderly wiping dust from Merlin's cheek. Merlin leaned into the touch and Arthur let his hand linger.

"I'm sorry." Arthur's voice was sorrowful, his eyes begging for forgiveness he didn't feel he deserved. "I've been acting like...like a prat." He half-smiled as he used Merlin's regular term for him.

Merlin smiled softly. "I understand."

He pulled Arthur's hand from his cheek and brushed it with his lips. Next Merlin raised his eyes, desire burning in them, to stare at Arthur's lips, watching him slide his tongue out and wet them. He then let their eyes meet again. Arthur's desire shone back at him for a moment, but then it wavered and Arthur averted his gaze. He tugged his hand away from Merlin's, nervous and uncertain.

Arthur went over to the washbowl and bent over it, using his hands to scoop water out and wash the dust from his face. Merlin remained where he was and waited, not sure what else he could do.

Arthur dried his face with a cloth, then picked up another and dipped its corner into the water. He approached Merlin again, the damp cloth held out.

Merlin stood there, awkwardly, as Arthur dabbed tenderly at his face with the cloth. He tolerated it until he felt stinging from a graze he hadn't realised he had. He stopped Arthur's hand with his own, firmly, but smiling kindly.

Merlin didn't like near-death experiences, but he had to admit that the near miss with the falling stones had come at an opportune time. Apparently, fear of losing him forever was capable of jolting Arthur out of his prattery. The castle's repair work had repaired their relationship, he mused giddily.

Then Merlin's eyes widened as he suddenly remembered his duties. "The scrolls! I didn't pick them back up."

"Forget them."

Arthur's hand reached for Merlin's cheek again, without the cloth this time. Merlin leant into the touch and Arthur slid his hand around to cup the back of his neck. Following Arthur's encouraging touch, Merlin leant forward.

Arthur's lips captured his, hungry and strong.

Merlin gripped Arthur's tunic, pulling him closer, kissing back with equal fervour. The rest of the world slipped away, as again they became entangled. Two halves, their lips moving together instinctively.

One whole.

~End~


End file.
